They Say We are Birds of a Feather
by Zeragii
Summary: The Three Caballeros, agents for the USM Border Secret Service, are back! When an entire native village disappears, it's up to the three friends to follow the trail and solve the mystery before it's too late. (Second story in my series!)
1. Same Old Same Old

There's something about moving trains that gives one a sense of man's technological achievements. The way the side rods bucked and rose, pumped by the power that the locomotive gave it. The pure energy behind each turn of the axle, a spin in its own designated space, creating circles of illusion, it was moving so fast. The smoke stack, like some medieval dragon, spewing out billowing clouds of smoke that streamed out behind it, dissipating in the wind. It was enough to catch one's breath in awe. It was enough to cause one's heart to beat with a pounding rhythm. But, of course, that was only the case when one was seeing a train from afar, or if one was riding safely within the cars of the locomotive. But to be on top of the train, as Donald Duck was finding out, was a very different matter altogether.

"WHOA!"

Donald swung his arms frantically, trying to regain his balance as his back arched over the rim of the train car. He barely managed to do so, and was only met by another swing from his adversary. The punch was aimed too high, and the duck easily dodged it, throwing off the balance of the dog before him.

It was a simple mission really, just a couple of Pomeranian bandits that had been seen in the vicinity, robbing trains and causing general panic among the citizens of that particular junction. But, as always, the mission had become far more complicated as it had gone along. The leader of the supposed gang had turned out not to be the leader at all, but the right hand man of the true leader. And to make matters worse, José had gone and gotten himself captured, suffering a good hit to the head. He had ended up alright, and Donald and Panchito had managed to rescue him, but then it had been a race to catch up to the bandits, who had been in the process of robbing a very well-stocked, governmental train. They had made it, though only just barely, and the outcome was still yet to be seen.

Donald caught the dog's wrist as the Pomeranian tried to smash his fist into the duck's beak. The move surprised the bandit, and Donald used his surprise against him, just as he had been taught. With a pull, Donald lay down suddenly on his back on top of the train, pulling his adversary down on top of the soles of his feet. With a hard push, he sent the bandit sailing over his head, only with one small catch. The bandit, being a fairly seasoned fighter, had acted swiftly, grabbing a hold of Donald's sleeves. The result was Donald being carried right along with his own throw. The two rolled several feet, coming very close to the edge of the train's side. The bandit gave a cry as he ran into a steel protrusion in the roof, kicking out at Donald in retaliation. With a gasp of pain, Donald stumbled back, falling right over the edge of the speeding locomotive.

" _Entendi!*_ I've got you, Donald!"

A hand shot down, catching the duck's wrist. Donald winced as his lower half bumped against the side of the train, but his relief was far greater than the pain. The muscles in his arm protested, but it was better than falling to the fast moving ground below him. With a sense of bewilderment, he glanced up, right into the strained face of his partner, José Carioca. The Brazilian Parrot was struggling to hold Donald's weight, which couldn't be easy, seeing that Donald was just a bit bigger than José himself. They kept slipping further down, but the parrot kept pulling back, using his full strength that he always seemed to hold in reserve for just such an occasion. Donald was a little worried that his friend was participating in all of the excitement. His head bandaged, José really should have been somewhere safe, resting, but the Brazilian had not been willing to even consider that option, and now Donald was very glad that he hadn't.

Donald gave his friend a grateful smile, before it turned to horror. " José! Look out!"

The parrot grunted in exertion as he managed to look up over his shoulder. What he saw made his heart almost stop, but with a twist of his legs, he succeeded in shifting just enough to avoid the bullet from the angry bandit's gun. It hit the train top instead, ricocheting off of it with a loud, echoing shot. It even left a little dent in the metal. Instinct screamed at José to move, but his loyalty forced him to stay with his friend, who was still trying to climb up his arms and back onto the barreling train. The parrot could her the bandit cocking his pistol, preparing for another shot.

"Where's Panchito?!" Donald shouted in panic, pulling his legs tight to his body as a passing tree came a little too close for comfort. The wind whipped all around them, making it hard to be heard over the roar of rushing air. But the second gunshot, that once again came far too close, rang out causing both agents to flinch. The cocking was heard again, and they both had a feeling that this time the bandit wouldn't miss. The shot rang out, and José and Donald slammed their eyes shut, both expecting to feel the hot fire of lead pierce them...But it never came.

"Yeehaww!"

The familiar cry of elated joy caused them to sag slightly in relief. Panchito appeared, the rooster urging his horse to race alongside the fast moving train. His pistols were out and smoking slightly, as he aimed a few more well-placed shots toward the bandit, who had now forgotten all about José and Donald, and was now only trying to protect himself from Panchito's line of fire. Señor Martinez, Panchito's trusty steed, thrust his head forward as he ran, putting his all into keeping up with the train car where Donald and José were finally being able to shift back on top. They carefully stood to their feet, balancing on the train and shifting with its slightly rocking motion.

Panchito gave another whoop, thoroughly enjoying the adrenaline rush as he urged his horse just a little faster. When he was satisfied with the speed, he stood up in the saddle, arms braced out at his sides for balance. " _Atrapame*!_ " he cried out, just before he jumped. Donald and José barely had time to grab a hold of him to keep the rooster from falling off the train himself. Regaining his balance, Panchito leveled his guns to the defiant looking bandit. "Surrender, Señor! The jig is up!"

Donald tried not to chuckle. Panchito had been picking up on some of his American phrases, and, even though Panchito often used them correctly, it still sounded funny coming out with his thick, Spanish pronunciation. But the duck's smile faded an instant later.

"That's where you're wrong, buster!" a voice growled from behind.

The secret service agents spun around, eyes widening as all three looked down the barrels of two rifles, held by to new bandits who had decided to join their comrade up top. With only a moments hesitation, Donald and José kicked out, catching both rifles and redirecting their shots just as the guns went off with a bang. Both partners flung themselves on the Pomeranians, rolling about on the train roof as both pairs struggled for control of the rifles. Panchito, still turned toward the first bandit, looked over his shoulder worriedly, momentarily distracted. The lone Pomeranian took his chance, raising his pistol and firing a hurried shot at the unfocused rooster.

Panchito gave a hissing gasp as he felt a thin line of heat graze his arm. His eyes snapped back to the first bandit, firing off a shot of his own before the dog could blink. It pegged the bandit straight in the shoulder, causing him to drop his gun and sink to the rooftop, his pistol falling off the train to the ground below. Knowing that the bandit was no longer a threat, Panchito turned, racing along the cars to reach his partners and help them.

José was having a bit of difficulty, whether it was the conk on the head he had received earlier, or just that he wasn't that good a fighter. His main tactics in this sort of situation consisted of using his wit, and dodging the enemy's various blows. But up here, atop the train, it was hard to do so. He had managed to wrestle the rifle away from his adversary, but had had it knocked from his hands a moment later. Now neither had an advantage, changing their fight to one of fists.

Suddenly, the bandit released a fast blow, catching the Brazilian right in the eye. José gave a yelp of surprise and pain, stumbling backward, momentarily blinded. The sensation of falling made his heart falter, suspecting that he had fallen right off of the train. But his landing, painful as it was, was far less so than he had expected, feeling the lumps of many rocks beneath his back. After a moment of lying there, realizing that he wasn't dead, the parrot opened his eyes, the one that had been punched only doing so slightly. He almost laughed in relief as he discovered that he had, indeed, fallen, but not to the ground as he had thought, but down inside the coal car. That explained the hundreds of stones digging into his back.

Panchito had reached José's spot just as the parrot fell. The rooster gave the bandit a powerful punch, sending him spinning off the train completely. Luckily for the Pomeranian, they were passing a lake at that precise moment, and he was fortunate enough to fall into the water.

Donald was getting frustrated, having not enjoyed this adventure at all. His opponent was arrogant and smirky, which only fed the white duck's anger, which in turn, unknown to the bandit, only made him stronger. Dodging another one of his adversary's blows, Donald decided to try his trick again on _this_ dog. Falling flat onto his back again, the rifle held between him and the Pomeranian, stuck in a perpetual tug-of-war, he pulled the bandit up and over, giving him a kick that sent the villain flying over and off the train. He wasn't as fortunate as his colleague, and landed, rolling, along the grassy field to the trains left before coming to a painful stop. Donald took a deep breath, wiping an arm over his sweaty brow as he lay on his stomach, recovering from the fight.

"Donald!"

The duck looked up, spotting Panchito and José further down the line from him. It appeared that the rooster was trying to help a rather dazed looking José out of the coal car. The parrot was having difficulty climbing out, clinging to Panchito's extended arms as the rooster tried not to be pulled down to join him in the coal. It was Panchito who had shouted his name, the rooster glancing back at him urgently.

"Donald! Stop the train! _Date prisa*!_ "

Donald nodded, scrambling to his feet. Of the three of them, he was closest to the engine car, and, after a moment or two of running, he made it there without any problem. Slipping down inside the empty car, he picked his way over the spilled coal, trying to locate the break. Where the engineer was was a mystery still yet to be solved. He hoped that the bandits hadn't hurt him. But, right now, the main problem was getting the train to halt. It was going at top speed; a speed that the duck had not realized trains of this style and make could go. His eyes roved frantically over the various gears and levers, none of which gave him even the slightest hint of which would stop the locomotive. His nerves were already on edge, and he could still hear Panchito shouting for him to stop the train. Frustration finally won out over his patience, and Donald lurched forward, took hold of the largest lever available, and gave it a violent tug.

The screech of breaks filled the air, as the train and everything in it was thrown into a long, grinding halt. Donald found himself with his beak pressed up against the side of the car, the brute strength of centrifugal force keeping him there. Somewhere far behind him, José and Panchito were both thrown back into the coal car, coal flying everywhere as the small, black rocks tumbled with the force of the stop. Cars crashed into each other, bending metal and axles cracking. The force caused a few further down the line to derail, as everything came to a loud, steaming halt.

Donald extricated himself from the pile of coal that had come bouncing down on top of him, covered from head to toe in black. With a cough that created a little black puff in the air, he scurried over to the window, poking his head out and surveying the damage.

He was quiet for a long moment, eyes wide at the mess his one, little action had caused. The trail was a twisted, steaming mess, little more than mutilated metal and chinked cars. The duck let loose a depressed sigh.

"Oops..."

* * *

 ***Entendi! = "Got it!" in Portuguese.**

 ***** **Atrapame! = "Catch me!" in Spanish.**

 ***** **Date prisa! = "Hurry up!" in Spanish.**

 **HI! I'm back! Thank you all so much for your patience! I know that this story has been a long time in coming, so, here you go!**

 **I do not own the Three Caballeros, Disney does. I do not write for profit, but for my own enjoyment and (hopefully) the enjoyment of others. THANK YOU!**


	2. New Mission

Colonel Hawkins looked at the three agents before him, his mind registering the sight as extremely familiar. He sat behind his mahogany desk, hands folded on its smooth top with a sense of calm, even though, on the inside, the Colonel felt no such thing. He took a moment to open a drawer and fetch a bottle of aspirin, swallowing one hurriedly, washing it down with a glass of already-available water. He was always prepared for these headaches. The one's that always seemed to follow one of these reports. Returning the bottle to its drawer and the glass to the table, Hawkins returned to his previous posture, fixing Panchito, Donald, and José with a stern gaze.

"Well," he began slowly, trying to keep his stress hidden and look on the bright side. "You caught the bandits. The five thousand dollar funds they stole have been returned to their proper owners and shareholders. Well done." That was the easy part. The colonel watched as the three birds in front of him grinned proudly at each other, before Hawkins dropped the other shoe. "That being said, what do you propose we do about the train?"

The smiles disappeared from the agents faces. José exchanged nervous glances with his partners, before looking forward again, seeming very hesitant. Of the three, he was the least outgoing; more cautious. But it also made him more level-headed. While, in certain situations, Donald was bad-tempered and hot-headed, and Panchito was energetic and always jumped into things without thinking, José was far calmer and strategic. It also made him the spokesman at meetings with Colonel Hawkins, seeing as both the other two's qualities weren't always the best thing when a mission had gone a little...crazy.

"The...train, Senhor*?" the parrot inquired carefully.

Hawkins fixed his frowning gaze on the Brazilian, angry, but not to the point of it truly showing. He never could really get mad at José; the parrot was just too mild-mannered for that. And, besides, the chaos that usually ensued the trio's adventures usually wasn't his fault. "Yes, the one that got pulverized in the process of your mission." He looked at them expectantly, waiting for one of them to answer. One always did. No matter how bad the mistake had been, the one responsible always owned up. Always. It had become almost like some sort of ritual. A mission would be finished, successful, but with a few minor problems. They would have a meeting. There would be scolding, apologies, and confessions. It was just how it always ended up. And this time was no different.

"Uh...How much will it cost to be repaired?" Donald asked uneasily, fingers intertwining as he twisted the life out of his sailor's cap, which he held in front of his chest. Why the duck still chose to wear his navy outfit was far beyond Hawkins' understanding. As was the reason behind José still wearing his usual yellow suit, black tie, and hat, despite offers of more fitting clothes for their occupation. Both birds had refused however, and that had been the end of that.

Hawkins turned suspicious eyes to the duck. Donald looked particularly agitated, which was giving him away, and he knew it. Hawkins nodded, understanding, but also wanting to wait and hear the agent out. As a Colonel, he had learned not to jump to conclusions. "About the same amount that the bandits stole," Hawkins answered stiffly, showing his disapproval.

The agents before him flinched, Donald more so than the others. Panchito and José lowered their eyes, trying to refrain from looking to their partner, thus giving him away. But Donald ended up doing that himself. With a gulp, stepping forward nervously, and shame visible in his expression, Donald confessed.

"It's my fault, Sir...I-I stopped the train too quickly. I got frustrated when I couldn't find the right lever and I just...wasn't thinking." He looked down at his webbed feet, waiting to be told off by his superior. "Panchito and José have nothing to do with it...You can take it out of my paycheck," he offered, his voice thick with depressed acceptance of his fate.

Hawkins sighed in tired frustration, dragging a hand down his forehead and the side of his face. "That _is_ your paycheck, Donald," he muttered.

"Now, wait, Donald," Panchito spoke up quickly, moving forward to lay a hand on his friend's shoulder comfortingly, while stepping up to place himself almost protectively between his partner and the colonel. "It wasn't just your fault. We're a team, amigo...We do things together." He looked to Hawkins with determination. "We'll all help to pay for the damage we caused to the train."

Beside him, José readily agreed.

Hawkins peeked out at them from his hand, which he had been blocking his eyes with in an effort to try and ease his headache. He read the determination and extreme loyalty of the three standing before him, and he found he couldn't stop himself from smiling. He lowered his hand with another sign, a fond look taking the place of his annoyance. "You know, you three are going to be the death of me," he said, only half jokingly.

Panchito grinned back. "It has never been our intention, Señor."

Hawkins huffed good naturally. "Alright, we'll see. Meeting dismissed. I'll let you know when I need to dispatch you for your next mission." He turned to a frighteningly large pile of paperwork on his desk, which, in all honesty, did little to improve his aching head. "I have a lot to do, so I'll discuss this more deeply later on. Good day, gentlemen."

Donald and José turned to leave, but then paused when they realized that Panchito was still at attention. They gave their partner a questioning look, but Panchito motioned subtly for them to leave, promising them with his eyes that he would follow soon after. Exchanging confused glances, José and Donald left, closing the door of Hawkins' office as gently as possible.

Hawkins didn't even have to glance up from his work to know that Panchito was still standing there, waiting to be noticed. For the sake of annoyance, the colonel took his time rearranging the papers and setting them neatly in his drawer before turning his eyes back to the rooster standing stiffly at attention. "Is there something else I can do for you?" he grumbled irritably.

"Yes, Señor," Panchito answered seriously, but then his official, lower rank behavior vanished at once. He knew Hawkins as well as a son knows his father, and had known him nearly as long. When they were alone, he knew that he could drop the act and just be himself. Whether Hawkins approved or not wasn't even in the equation. "Come on, Colonel, give Donald a break. He was just trying to do his job." He paused, trying to read the colonel's impassive look. "Surely the agency can pay up the damage."

Hawkins smirked despite himself. "Are you saying this because you don't want Donald to have to pay, or because _you_ don't want to pay?"

Panchito blushed a little. "It was a mistake!" he exclaimed, ignoring the first question.

"A very expensive mistake," Hawkins frowned.

Panchito opened his beak to argue back, but realized he had nothing to say in answer. He closed his mouth, eyes lowering to rest on the floorboards to the side of his feet. He fell completely silent, though making his displeasure clearly known. Hawkins looked up at him, taking in his frustrated appearance. The rooster sometimes reminded him of a brooding child, easily upset, but also easily cheered. He hated when he was like that. Panchito was so like his father, an agent who had been Hawkins' partner many years before. Murdered by a terrible villain, Hawkins had been left with the task of supplying Carmelo Quintero's widow and young son with whatever funds he could spare. Panchito was almost like a son to the colonel. A very hard-to-control son. And so much like Hawkins' deceased partner. Sometimes it struck the colonel just how much.

With another tired sigh, Hawkins ran the hand down his face once again. "Fine. Fine. I'll send a request to General Almaraz. Perhaps there is something he can do." Just like he expected, Panchito's sad persona was instantly replaced with a beaming smile.

"Gracias, Señor!"

The colonel leaned against the desk, waving a tired hand toward his friend. "Yes, yes. But don't get your hopes _too_ high."

But Panchito was already headed for the office door, preparing to tell his partners the good news, even if it was a little premature. However, just as he was about to reach for the handle, the door opened hurriedly, a messenger pigeon rushing in, and Panchito had to hop aside out of the way.

"Marked urgent!" the pigeon chirped in a gasping, out of breath manner. He looked like he were about to drop. These messengers were very efficient, the fastest in the territory, but they were prone to exhaustion. Hawkins took the letter from the bird's shaking grasp, giving the pigeon a pitying look. "Thank you, Corporal Henson. Please, go and rest in the Mess Hall before you return to your post." The messenger gave him a thankful glance, not even bothering to answer as he slowly and shakily made his way back out the door, shutting it firmly.

Panchito watched as the Colonel opened the letter, noticing the furrowing brow of his superior officer. Curiosity getting the best of him, the rooster made his way softly back over to the desk. He waited a moment longer, then asked, "What is it, Señor? News?" Letters only came marked urgent for two reasons. Either really _good_ news, or really _bad_ news. There was no doubt that this was the later.

"You could say that," Hawkins breathed, eyes still roving over the paper's content. Then, with a nod, he handed it to Panchito as he explained it in summery. "Missing persons department."

Panchito's eyes widened at the words he held. "Of an entire village?!" he exclaimed in shock, the thought beyond his comprehension.

"It would appear so," Hawkins replied, folding his hands together on top of his desk. "The village is located in the Everhaze Valley Canyon, just north of Eldwood Post. It was a supply stop for many of our agents out there, as well as a source of in information."

Panchito continued scanning the letter, his seriousness deepening. "According to this, they all disappeared a week ago. No trace." He frowned, not liking those facts at all.

"Indeed." Hawkins studied Panchito with a smile. He could tell that the rooster was dying to solve the mystery. It was really quite humorous, how the agent could be so young and inexperienced one minute, and so serious, determined, and focused the next. With a light chuckle, the colonel caught Panchito's attention. "I am assigning this mission to you, Donald, and José. It should keep you out of my feathers for a while. Think you can handle that?" He had no doubt as to what the answer would be.

"Sí, Señor!" Panchito pipped, giving a formal salute. He started for the door again, at a much quicker speed this time.

"And Agent González..."

Panchito turned his head back with a startled jolt, surprised by the use of his last name. "...Sí, Señor?"

Hawkins smiled. "Just...try not to damage any more trains...Or government property."

Panchito returned the smile, knowing it was the Colonel's own way of wishing them luck. He saluted once more, before turning and heading out the door, shutting it behind him. Leaving the aging colonel to his mound of paperwork.

* * *

"WHAT?!"

Panchito flinched at Donald's shout, wiggling a finger in his ear as he sent his friend a wincing glare. "Sí. That is what Señor Hawkins says. He said we are to head out at once. There is no time to waste!"

"Especially if it has to do with something like this," José observed carefully. He fiddled with his tie distractedly. "Entire villages don't just disappear overnight for no reason. Something must be wrong." He glanced to Donald, as if for support. But Donald had a few more things he wanted to know first.

"Are you sure he said he wanted me to go," he intoned nervously. "I-I mean, after what happened yesterday?"

Panchito's expression softened with understanding. "Donald, we've all made mistakes. Me especially. You forget what I was like before you guys came to join me here. Caramba! I'm surprised I even lived through some of those adventures!" His eyes gleamed with pride. "But now, while I still tend to get a little..."

"Crazy?" José offered.

"- Overexcited," the rooster quickly rephrased. "Now I have you two to keep me in check. Just like I'm here to keep you two in check. As partners, that's what we do. We watch each other's backs." His expression became more sincere. "Which is a lesson I never would have learned without you both."

There was an warm, yet somewhat uncomfortable silence between them, a mix of good and bad memories forming in all their minds. Their first mission together had been quite the undertaking, and hadn't ended quite as well as they would have liked. Panchito had almost been killed. But it wasn't as bad as it could have been. And that was a good five months behind them now. Since then, they had really grown as a team, and were starting to be noticed by some of the higher up officials. Things were going well, or, at least, as well as such an occupation could be expected to be. Panchito had healed just fine from his injuries, and was back to working full time as an agent, much to his enthusiasm.

After several seconds of quiet, Donald ventured to speak up. "So...When do we leave?"

"Right away," Panchito declared, already marching toward the stables in an instant. Donald and José exchanged quick glances before scurrying to catch up.

"Aguarde*, Panchito! Wait!" José grabbed his friend's arm, pulling him to a halt. "But we just got back from a mission...Shouldn't we, I don't know, rest up before we head back out?" He didn't know about the other two, but he was still sore and bruised from the whole train incident. A good night's sleep in an actual bed would have been nice too. But the parrot knew, even before he had asked, what the rooster's answer would be.

Panchito gave José's hand a pat. "I know, mis amigo," he soothed gently. "I know you are tired, but Fort Cawford is low on agents right now. There are not that many Hawkins would see as worthy of trust to go on a mission like this. It's an honor, mis amigos..."

"And you're curious, aren't you?" Donald added softly. If there was one thing they knew about Panchito, it was that he had the unstoppable curiosity of a cat. It could be a virtue sometimes, but it could also be a curse.

Panchito sighed. "Sí." He gave them a pleading look, a gaze that both gave them free choice, but at the same time, no freedom at all to choose.

Donald and José exchanged looks again, before they both smiled and shook their heads in submission. Donald marched past the rooster, giving him a light push. "Well, come on. Let's go find out what's happening in the Everhaze Valley Canyon."

Making their way over to the stable, the sound of whinnying filled the air. Fort Cawford had an abundance of horses, seeing as it was basically the only source of transportation for miles. The creatures were well tamed, friendly beasts, that knew quite a few commands; tricks that, in a pinch, could save an agent's life. Most were young animals, spirited, with years of use still ahead of them. Panchito's horse, among them, was perhaps one of the wildest. In fact, over time, it had become quite clear that Señor Martinez would be ridden by no other agent than the rooster himself. Panchito was the only one who seemed to be able to control him. It was only because Panchito willed it that the beast allowed Donald and Jose to sit behind the rooster on his back.

The stables were large, housing a good seventeen or so horses, fed and watered, and prepared to leave at a moment's notice. The structure was built into the very wall of Fort Cawford, slotted windows facing inward toward the parade grounds, but none facing outward toward the desert. That would have been unwise, as it would have been a possible entree for unsavory characters. For the fort's protection, nowhere other than the parapets looked out over the desert wasteland beyond.

Stepping into the stable, Panchito saluted a large bear, who was leaning against one of the support beams, looking particularly bored. He was enormous, and rugged looking. Not a fellow one would want to get on his bad side. Panchito was dwarfed in comparison to the bear's great size, but that did little to deter the rooster, who grinned up at the larger agent with a cock of his head. "Buenos días, Recardo!" he greeted cheerfully, followed by the softer greetings of his partners. Panchito knew that Donald and José were still a little afraid of Recardo, not for any other reason other than his size. Of course, Panchito had used the bear as a training partner for Jose when he had first arrived, and that might have been a little traumatic, but they would get over that eventually, Panchito was sure.

Recardo's face lit up with a friendly, but toothy, smile. "Good morning! Going out on another case already?"

Panchito headed for the peg that held his saddle, calling over his shoulder. "Sí, the colonel's orders. Do you think that Señor Martinez is rested enough to head back out?"

Recardo gave his chin a rub, eyes straying to the horse in question. "I don't see why not. It's been a few hours, and he's pretty durable. Though, for him to carry all three of you might prove a problem." He smiled mischievously. "Which leads to something I've been meaning to tell you. A sort of...surprise." He pointed to Donald and José. "For you two."

Donald looked up from helping Panchito lower the saddle. "Surprise?" His voice was hopeful, not all that unlike a child expecting some special gift. "What kind of surprise?"

Walking down the long stable lined with horses, Recardo stopped halfway down, motioning the two agents to follow. They did so, eyes watching the bear curiously. Recardo gestured to the stable doors, side by side, with a grin that made him look almost fierce.

"I asked the Colonel about getting you two your own horses. He said he'd think about it, and, well, by golly, a few days ago he said yes. He thought that agents as active in duty as you should each have your own steed." He clapped the shocked birds on the back heartily, almost throwing them both to the straw-covered floor. "What do you think, eh?"

Donald blinked up at the beast staring down at him from over the wooden stall gate. He reached up to touch the soft, brown nose, and the horse leaned forward to meet his hand halfway. Donald chuckled, giving the horse an approving pat. "I think he's perfect!" he declared. The duck had actually been hoping for a horse of his own. Though Panchito was a perfectly good rider, Donald had never liked being stuck on a horse behind anyone. He liked being in control of what he was riding. This way, he would no longer feel uncomfortable and unbalanced.

José was a little less enthused. He had never liked horses, of any kind, finding them unpredictable and flighty, two qualities that made him very nervous. He didn't even enjoy riding with Panchito. The rooster's horse was wild at times, and the parrot had applied those characteristic to any horse he came across, whether it was true or not. He didn't hate horses, and he did, through agent training, know how to ride one, but he just wasn't one to find riding enjoyable. But, after all Recardo had done to get them their own beasts, it was the least he could do to say thank you, which he did. José reached up a slightly trembling hand, just as Donald had done, and gave his horse's nose a very light brush with the tips of his fingers. The horse gave a contented huff, and José smiled, feeling slightly more accepting of it's mild-mannered attitude toward him. "He's a good horse, Recardo. Obrigado.*"

Gathering their supplies, and saddling up their horses, the three agents prepared for the journey ahead. Everhaze Valley Canyon was quite a distance from Cawford, and it was turning out to be a cool evening, especially for the desert. Blankets were packed, the agents knowing that, despite the heat of the day, desert nights could be a stark contrast indeed. It wasn't long before they were ready, and the three birds mounted their steeds, directing them toward the fort gates, and out into the sandy world beyond.

Soon, from Cawford, they were nothing but specks on the horizon.

* * *

 ***Aguarde = 'Wait' in Portuguese.**

 ***** **Obrigado = 'Thank you' in Portuguese.**

 ***** **Senhor = 'Sir' in Portuguese.**

 **Yeah! Chapter two! I forgot how much I enjoy writing these three! ;)**


	3. Eldwood Post

Eldwood Post was a rickety ranch along the Eldwood trail, and a frequent stop for travelers. Small and practically lost in the vast landscape, it looked like a dollhouse cast among the dunes of the stretching desert. Dust and age had stained the wood grey and tan, sand filling each and every crevice. The building itself was accompanied with a network of fences behind it, where numerous horses and cattle were kept. The gentle neighing and mooing in the background gave it a very peaceful aspect. An aspect that wasn't necessarily common out west these days.

Panchito, Donald, and José arrived just after nightfall, the warm colors of dusk painting the sky with yellows, and pinks, and dark, blossoming purples. A few stars twinkled on the Eastern horizon, promising a cool evening filled with bright, shining points of light far above. Already, the chill of evening was moving it, the warmth retreating with the setting sun. It cast a beautiful blue haze over the dunes, bathing them in twilight. It was calming, and gentle. Peaceful.

Panchito dismounted by the porch of Eldwood Post, holding the reigns in his hand as he slid to the ground, before tying it to the nearby rail. He really wasn't concerned about Señor Martinez running off, even if he didn't tie him tightly in place. The horse was loyal, and never left his master's side. The rooster, however, encouraged by example so that his two partners would take the precaution. Their steeds, though well trained, were nothing in their behavior like Panchito's own horse, and he highly suspected that, should they be given the chance, the two animals would wander off back to the fort if left to their own devices.

The rooster had been highly amused by his companions' riding skills. Though they had been briefed and taught over the last few months how to properly ride a horse, it was still a practice they had yet to master. Of the two, Donald had better control, his stern nature and no-nonsense attitude was sensed by the beast he rode on, and that helped a little. Though, Donald's natural knack for trouble caused the horse to always head in the opposite direction than he wanted. But the duck, in his own resourceful way, decided that he would just always give the opposite command that he wanted, and therefore got the horse to move the way he intended. It was a little unorthodox, but it seemed to be working well for him.

José was doing little better, and had actually become quite flustered. Though he had always found that riding on the back of Señor Martinez was nerve wracking, controlling his own beast had proved to be doubly so. The creature, Panchito knew, could sense José's nervousness, which only succeeded in making the horse nervous itself. It had become edgy, and finicky, and Panchito and Donald had had to wait as José was forced to remount, having been thrown right off his beast's back. More than once. That, naturally, only made José even more uneasy.

Panchito had managed to keep his smile hidden, knowing that, as time passed, his partners would get the hang of it all. They just needed a little time, and experience. And the only way to get that was through practice. Real life practice. Something that no amount of training could ever truly give them. The trick was just keeping them from quiting before that goal was reached.

Donald and José dismounted as well, tying their horses to the rail as they had seen their friend do. They each took a deep breath as they stepped back, releasing whatever frustration they had gained on the trip. It worked, and they instantly felt their tensions leave. Donald looked at the small building before them, perhaps a little skeptically. "Is this where we're staying the night?" he asked, raising a brow as Panchito proceeded up the few steps of the wooden-planked porch.

Panchito looked over his shoulder at the duck, giving one of his winning smiles. "Si, amigo. I know it's small, but it will do well until tomorrow. It is too far to Everhaze Valley Canyon to make it there tonight." His smile grew. "Besides, the people who live here are old friends of my family."

José was shaking off the remainder of his unease, grateful that he was now standing on his own two feet again. "But shouldn't we try and get to Everhaze as soon as possible? We could save time by riding through the night."

The rooster sent him an amused glance. "At the speed you two travel, we would not save any time at all," he teased gently. "Besides, a good rest might be what would be most wise." His expression became slightly more serious. "We don't know what we will face tomorrow." Panchito finished climbing the steps, reaching a hand out to give the old, wooden door before him a knock, but his hand never even made contact.

In a blur of colorful fabric, the door was swung open. A middle-aged hen flung herself at Panchito, wrapping her arms around him tightly as she cheered at the top of her lungs. "Panchito! Oh, Heavens! _Heavens!_ It's been so long! How have you been?!" Her bright, gold-flecked eyes shone with joy and laughter, almost like those of a child on Christmas morning, but with an air of motherly coddling hidden beneath. She was considerably larger than Panchito, and stronger, keeping the young rooster completely immobile as she greeted him. She held the ruffled rooster before her at arms length, looking him over in a way that reminded Donald of Aunt Gertie*, who always smothered Huey, Dewey, and Louie with the same level of intense affection.

Panchito, to his partners amusement, actually looked a little embarrassed. He was trying to squirm his way out of the hen's grasp, but she was not about to release him so easily. He muttered a quick, "I am well," in Spanish, before the woman launched into another string of joyful shouting. Her hold had trapped the rooster's arms to his sides, and he could not free himself without being rude. So he waited as she shouted over her shoulder toward the little cottage.

"Adelmo! Adelmo, we have guests! It is Panchito! And he brought friends!"

"PANCHITO!"

The enthused shout was almost louder than that of the hen, and a moment later a rather large, well-built rooster was running out the door and into sight. His eyes widened and his beak broke into a great, big grin, a wall of white with a few missing teeth. As his wife moved aside, Adelmo grasped both of Panchito's hands and shook them excitedly, so hard that Panchito had to try hard not to let his beak clack together noisily from the pure energy the fellow greeted him. "It is so good to see you, my friend! It has been such a long time since we have seen you!" Adelmo continued pumping the smaller rooster's arms until Panchito finally succeeded in removing himself. He took a deep breath, trying to regain some ounce of dignity. Needless to say, it was rather entertaining to see Panchito so uncomfortable around someone even more boisterous than himself, and Donald and José had to try hard not to laugh out loud at the expression on their friend's face.

"Oh, sí. Sí." the frazzled rooster smiled, rubbing the warm friction from his hands. "Helen, Adelmo, it is good to see you both again as well." Stepping back a little, he slid a hand behind Donald and José's backs, pushing them forward with a chuckle. The two agents suddenly lost their amused grins as they found themselves now efficiently placed between Panchito and the two, madly grinning faces of their hosts. "These are my new partners, Donald and José. They joined the USM Border Secret Service a few months ago. Isn't that right, mes amigos?" His friends both gave a nervous nod, just before they were enveloped in the arms of the excited hen, Helen, at the same time as being greeted by Adelmo in the same way Panchito had been. By the time the greetings had been made, the two stood, ruffled and unkempt, not really sure what had happened.

"It is very nice to meet friends of Panchito's," Helen hummed happily, still holding onto their hands gently, taking them in like sweet, little children. "We've known the dear boy since he was nothing but a hatchling. His mother and him used to come and visit, isn't that right, Adelmo?"

"That's right!" He gave Panchito's shoulder a very light punch, grinning. "Ya were an energetic little scamp, ya were!" He completely missed the looks that both Donald and José sent Panchito. A pleading look, as though they wished to step back, but couldn't, seeing as Helen still had a grip of their shoulders. She had always done that.

Panchito smiled fondly, placing his feathered hands on his hips in amusement, having gladly turned the tables on his friends. He hadn't expected the reunion with this couple to be so...enthusiastic. They were the closest thing he had to family, outside of his mother, who lived in a region quite a distance from the fort. Though, despite their close friendship, he was sorry to admit that he saw them very rarely. So, in a way, he deserved such rigorous a welcome. If he came around more often, perhaps it would be a little toned down. Though he doubted it. But, at least, he had been able to share the experience with his friends. Though he'd have to watch out for a few days, they'd surely try and get back at him for it sooner or later.

Turning to the happy couple, Panchito gestured to their horses, who still stood, breathing heavily by the post. "Is it alright to keep them here, or would you rather we put them someplace else?" The last thing he wanted was to get on bad terms with these folks. While incredibly pleasant when happy, when mad, they were both a fearful sight. Just as passionate in whatever emotion.

"Oh, what beautiful beasts," Helen exclaimed sweetly, hands clasped before her as though she were looking at the very gates of Heaven. She stepped down, coming up to Senor Martinez, rubbing the horses nose when he lowered it toward her. She chuckled, making clicking noises with her tongue while Senor Martinez whinnied pleasantly. This woman obviously had an unusual taste in beauty. The horses were filthy, sweaty and worn from the long journey from the fort. They were anything but beautiful. "Oh, we wouldn't dream of leaving them out in the open. What if they should run off. No, no. You may put them in the pen with our horses. That way they'll be fed and watered in the process."

Panchito looked humbled. "Are you sure? I mean, it won't be any trouble?"

"Not at all," Adelmo declared heartily, slapping his friend hard upon the back. It was meant to be all in kidding, but the force very nearly knocked Panchito off his feet. Only Donald and José's quick reflexes saved him from taking a tumble, as they both shot out a hand to help him regain his balance. "Here, I'll give you a hand," their host continued, oblivious. "Then we'll all go in and eat. Helen's gone and made us a nice cactus stew. Loads of the stuff, a whole pot full! I hope yer hungry!" He latched onto Panchito's arm and started dragging him off down the steps, leading the way they would take the horses to the pen. The rooster agent sent a slightly pleading glance toward his friend before he and Adelmo disappeared from view around the corner of the corral.

That left Donald and José with Helen.

"Come, come, boys," she clucked, fluffing her apron excitedly. "I'll need help setting the table. If we work together, we can get it done before those two get back!" She took each agent by the wrist and hurriedly pulled them inside, both birds stumbling to follow, but trying not to trip over the hem of the hen's skirt in the process. They made it in just before the the door was shut firmly behind them.

* * *

Cactus stew was actually a lot tastier than one might expect. It was soft, and creamy, with a consistency that reminded one of pale, green oatmeal. Chunks of well-cooked meat swam within it, brown islands in a sea of green. Bits of potato added to the pastel colored meal, its aroma strong but appetizing. It was warm, all the way from the bowl into their stomachs, and only then did the trio realize just how hungry they really were. Panchito had a habit of skipping meals while on a mission, claiming that when he was working, he simply didn't have time for eating. Over the past five months, Donald and José had slowly slipped into a similar routine. They could go quite a time without food, only becoming aware of it when they paused long enough to notice. Either that, or if food was placed in front of them. And this, quite honestly, was one of those times. They dug into the meal with a will, keeping in mind their manners, though they probably looked uncommonly like a pack of ravenous wolves.

It was a pleasant experience for the agents. After all, they had just got back from one mission, just before starting this one. They had not had a decent, home cooked meal in what felt like ages. It was a little slice of Heaven, each bite warming and calming, freeing the tension in them they hadn't even realized existed. It reminded each of them of someone they cared for. For Panchito, it was his mother's cooking, though she would have probably used more spice to warm its taste. For Donald, it was his girlfriend, Daisy, who still believed, along with the rest of his family, that he was in the Navy. She was quite a cook. And for José , he was simply swept away by memories of the tastes and sounds of Brazil. It caused the smallest twinge of homesickness within him, but not enough to ruin the experience.

Needless to say, together, they made short order of that stew.

As the eating slowed down to a light munching, Panchito decided it was time to bring about the business that had brought them to Eldwood Post to begin with. While it had been good to rest momentarily, it was time to start investigating the goings on in Everhaze Valley Canyon. Clearing his throat, the red rooster started up the conversation.

"According to the letter," he began, "you two were the ones who found that the village in Everhaze was empty."

"Yep. Empty as can be." Adelmo waved his hand toward the tabletop, indicating the remains of the meal. "It was like they all packed up and left in a hurry. Place was a wreck; trashed, with windows and doors smashed open. Very odd. Even their lunches were still lying out on their tables."

José frowned. Adelmo was right. If the people had left of their own free will, they would have taken their possessions and food with them. The fact that so much was left behind, and in such poor shape, was highly suspicious. Setting down his fork and spoon, the parrot abandoned what was left of his food, too intrigued to care about his stomach any longer. His mind was already spinning into full gear, countless possibilities popping up, with various explanations following fast in their wake. Sitting up a little straighter, he gave a question of his own. "There wasn't a sign of anyone?"

Adelmo shrugged, placing the last mouthful of stew in his beak, chewing before answering, swallowing noisily. "No one except Chitter." He handed his empty bowl to his wife, giving her a loving smile, completely unaware of the shock his statement had cost his guests.

"Chitter?" Donald repeated forcibly, lifting an eyebrow in confusion. This was the first he had heard of the name, and yet Adelmo spoke of the individual as though they should all know exactly who he was talking about. His smile was fond, like one might appear when talking of a well loved pet. But, as far as Donald knew, there were no dogs or cats on the post. At least, not that he had seen. He supposed that he might have missed it, but somehow he had a feeling that this was not what he was expecting at all.

"Well yes!" Helen beamed, starting to gather up the other dirty dishes off the table as she spoke. The clatter of the bowls mixed with the musical tone of her voice. "Or, at least, that's what we call him." She shook her head with a cluck of her tongue. "Can't understand a thing the fella says. All he does is chitter, which is why we gave him that name. Couldn't very well go about calling him 'hey you'. He's one of the natives who lived in the village that disappeared."

All three agents were dumbfounded, beaks hanging open. Panchito was the first to recover, his indignant voice breaking the silence. "Why wasn't that in the letter?!" He was feeling a little frustrated. While he cared for this couple deeply, almost as an extension of his small family, it could not be denied that they were not the smartest individuals. They were simple folk, untouched by the troubles that Panchito himself had seen in his lifetime. And he secretly hoped it would always remain that way. But this...This was impeding their progress.

"Don't know." Adelmo shrugged once again. "Probably 'cause we didn't tell anyone."

Panchito let out a sharp, frustrated sigh, running a hand down the side of his face. He gathered his patience, not wanting to lose his temper in front of his kindly friends and hosts. The deep breath helped, and after a moment he moved on. "Where is he?"

Adelmo rose to his feet, his chair scraping against the floor slightly as he stood excitedly. "He's outside in the barn. He prefers it out there. More like home, you know?" He headed for the door. "I'll go fetch him." With that, he disappeared from view, his heavy footsteps sounding outside on the porch until he left it for the soft sand and grass beyond.

"He's a very excitable little fellow, you understand," Helen explained, referring to their mysterious guest. "He's been chittering on and off since we found him, but we can't understand a word of it. We don't speak the dialect, you see. Plus, he's just too plain hard to understand!"

Donald gave a light grunt of agreement. He _did_ understand. He couldn't even count the times he had said something to someone, and they had failed to understand what he was saying. His unusual voice, which Donald was well aware he had, made it hard for his words to come out clearly. While it usually didn't bother the duck, there were times he got frustrated with playing charades with some people. Thankfully, Panchito and José had always been able to understand him perfectly. A blessing, whether they knew it or not. But Donald could definitely relate to this stranger. It was always terribly frustrating to be misunderstood.

Panchito looked curious. "What language did this town speak?" he asked, wishing that he had had more time to do a little more research on the mission before leaving Fort Cawford. He had never even been to Everhaze Valley Canyon, and knew very little of the people who lived there.

Helen smiled. "Oh, something like Acackin...No, or was it Aucayin?" She frowned, for perhaps the first time that night, brow furrowed as she tried various combinations of the word. "Alcinine? Acordian?"

"Aracuan?" José offered meekly, knowing that that was what the woman was searching for. He didn't want to appear impolite.

The hen beamed, a loud laugh bursting forth. "Aracuan! Yes, that's it! It was a village of Aracuan immigrants. They've lived there for a number of years now, and Adelmo and I often supplied them with food and clothing during the winter, until they were able to do so themselves." She chuckled musically. "Never managed to pick up the language though. Far too complicated."

José was now even more interested, his memory bringing up a number of things he had learned over the years. He had always loved geography, and even though he had never had a ton of schooling, he did know a few things. One could learn a lot, simply by talking with friendly travelers passing through the markets of Brazil. "I thought they were native to South America?" He had never met one, they were exceedingly rare, but he had heard of them.

Helen nodded. "I believe so. They came up this way, though I can't quite say why, because I don't have a clue. From what I understand, South America is beautiful. Why they would swap that for the deserted crevices of Everhaze Valley is beyond me."

Panchito slowly agreed. It was rather odd. He had seen South America, and it was indeed a beautiful place. Not quite his idea of home, but certainly José's choice. Why would so many rare individuals risk the trials of building a new life for themselves? And in Everhaze Valley Canyon of all places. Surely there were better places, going by Helen's description. It left an uneasy feeling in the pit of the rooster's gut, though he had no idea why.

The sound of Adelmo's heavy footfalls, accompanied by a much lighter, faster pair, caught everyone's attention. Turning, they were greeted by the sight of their host stepping through the door, a much smaller bird following at his side. He was of unusual colors, a faded reddish pink being the hue of most of his feathers. Except for the longer ones on his head, which were distinctly red. He had a long, pointed beak, from which above it two, large, curious eyes glanced about, not in a nervous way, but with complete trust and ease of mind. His legs, which were featherless, were long and slim. He wore a white, cotton shirt, with a single, faded blue strip circling the middle and both sleeves. It was a little big for him, but he certainly didn't seem to mind.

Adelmo came to the center of the room, gesturing to their new guest with a bright smile. "Gentlemen, this is Chitter."

The three agents blinked in surprise. Such a small fellow. They somehow had been expecting someone at least their own height. But this bird barely even made it past half that, giving him the appearance of an older hatchling. But they could tell, just by his manner that he was no child. But, then again, his childish nature, evident just by the curious way he was taking in the room and its occupants, with a large smile, made it obvious that he was very child-like, if anything. Certainly friendly.

As the leader of his team, Panchito decided it was his duty to start off communication, at least to the best of his ability, with this fellow. The Agency would want to be on good terms with the village...assuming that the village still existed somewhere. Wherever the inhabitants had gone off to. Moving slowly, so as not to spook the small bird, Panchito edged up from his seat, coming to crouch in front of the fellow. Chitter gazed up at him, his face nothing but smile and trust. He was perfectly at ease, not moving an inch as the rooster finally made it down to his level.

"Hola, Chitter," he began, keeping his tone as friendly as he possibly knew how. "My name is Panchito Pistoles." He gestured slowly toward his teammates. "And these are my friends, Donald and José. We are agents sent here to determine what happened to your village. Do you - Hey!" Panchito gave a yelp, falling back in surprise as Chitter all at once lunged forward, plucking his tan sombrero right of his head, placing it on his own with an excited series of fast, complicated words in a language no one in the room understood.

With a chitter true to his name, the colorful bird started prancing about, the weight and size of the sombrero almost hiding him completely from view as it sagged about him. He seemed fascinated by the object, excited with child-like energy.

"He's very excitable," Helen explained again, watching as the Aracuan started running laps around the table.

Panchito felt a little annoyed. He cared for his sombrero quite a bit, seeing as it meant a lot to him, due to his past, and he wasn't too pleased with the treatment it was now receiving. "I can see that," he answered, little humor in his voice. He took a deep breath, again to clear away his temper. He tried again. "Amigo," he called, as the small bird ran by him. "We are here to help you. Do you know what happened to your village?" He managed to grab a hold of the Aracuan's shoulders on the fellow's fifteenth round about the table. He crouched again, lifting the sombrero so he was once again greeted by those bright, smiling eyes. But there was no understanding in them. This bird knew no English.

"Does he speak Spanish?" he inquired of his friends. Seeing as they had been around Chitter for over a week, he hoped that maybe they had had better luck.

Adelmo shook his head. "Not a word."

Panchito sighed, letting his hands slide gently off Chitter's shoulders, allowing the bird to take off once more running in circles around the kitchen furniture. "I wish that one of us knew how to speak Aracuan," was all he could say. The Service trained agents to speak quite a few languages. Sadly, Aracuan was not one of them.

José chuckled, slipping out from his place at the table and taking his turn to crouch on the floor. Chitter came to a halt beside him, all smiles, clearly curious of the parrot. The Brazilian's bright, green feathers and pale yellow clothing was surly an unusual sight for the native. He cocked his head to the side, eyes blinking in a way that made José laugh fully. Quickly plucking the sombrero from Chitter's head, José threw it over to a grateful Panchito, unconcerned when Chitter, just as quickly, took the parrot's own hat. José didn't mind. In fact, he had expected it. He smiled as the Aracuan launched into yet another round of excited chittering, an idea slowly coming to him.

"Maybe if we take him with us he'll understand."

"Oh, that's a splendid idea!" Helen exclaimed. "I've had the feeling all week he's been wanting to go back, but was too frightened to go on his own. And we couldn't leave our post then. You might get some sort of an answer if you go there." For the first time since they had arrived, her manner seemed to darken slightly in concern. "He acts differently when he's there."

Panchito nodded, removing his guns from their holsters and holding them up above his head as Chitter tried to grab them out of curiosity. He didn't want their new friend getting hurt. "Very well. We shall head out at sunrise tomorrow morning."

* * *

 **Yay! Chapter three! Not the most exciting chapter, but those will come later. ;)**

 **Yes, the Aracuan Bird. I had a request from one of my readers to include him in my next story. I was so taken with the idea, I decided to give him a pretty large role. ;) Thanks for your patience and your reviews!**

 ***Aunt Gertie was from "Mickey's Once Upon a Christmas".**


	4. Everhaze Valley Canyon

**Whew! Okay! Sorry about the extremely long wait. As I have mentioned before, I always plan to finish the stories that I start, but they may have long intervals between chapters. It all depends on what I'm motivated by at the time. Because forcing myself to write always leads to a lazy plot and bad writing. But, yesterday and today, I had a streak of inspiration for this story, and managed to squeak out this chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

If there was one word that Donald's closest friends would have used to describe him, patient was not one of them. Even on a good day his temper was something of a waiting volcano, ready to blow at the first signs of frustration. It was kind of a turn off to a lot of people; even some of Donald's own relatives. However, no matter how mad or wild her became during a particular tantrum, Panchito and Jose never seemed to mind. They would back off a few paces, smile knowingly at each other, and wait for the moment to pass. Smart. Very smart. A lot of people didn't get that. They's try arguing or yelling him to his 'senses', which, in all honesty, just mad Donald all the more angry. He'd gotten better over the last year or so, having learned to curb his temper to something a little more predictable.

But all that hard work was now being stretched to its ultimate limit.

Chitter was a...curious little creature. Curious, and abounding in endless energy. When they had headed out that morning, rising with the break of dawn, he had been the first up and about, chattering ceaselessly in excitement as he perceived, predicted, or sensed the fact that they were going to be heading out. He had run under their feet all morning, obviously not trying to be of any help, just running around fort simply the sake of running around. And Donald, who was by no means a morning person, had barely managed from grabbing the little squeaker and throttling him to silence. A cup of coffee offered by Helen was probably the only thing that saved Chitter from that fate.

But things had not improved after they left. At first, the three agents had allowed the Aracuan to run on his own two feet beside their horses, hoping to give him a way to burn off a little bit of energy. But that only seemed to make Chitter all the more hard to keep track of. He ran all around them, and the three birds had to be on the constant lookout for him for fear of running their horses right over him. And then he would just run off, right over a dune or behind a crop of rocks, and they would call and worry until he popped back into sight. After an hour of this ceaseless round of what was beginning to feel very much like a round of some strange, alien form of hide and seek, Panchito finally relented.

As Chitter once again disappeared from sight, the rooster gave a weary sigh and dismounted, his feet hitting the sand as he landed and began a tired walk toward their charge. "Chitter, mi pequeño amigo, would you come here, please?" His voice carried a note of finality, most of his usual cheer soaked up by his weariness and the heat of the climbing sun on his back.

Chitter popped up, seeming absolutely enthralled by the fact that Panchito was now level with him, rather than riding above him in the saddle. He ran forward, chattering excitedly, until he was practicality pulling circles around the rooster. He made several passes before Panchito was finally able to catch his shoulders, gently but firmly pulling the small bird to a halt.

"I think it would be better if you rose with one of us, amigo. Then we will be able to move more quickly. Lo entiendes?*" The Aracuan merely blinked, all smiles and shining eyes. Panchito gave another sigh. "Okay. I guess not." He glanced up at the others with a shrug. "We'll take shifts." They were going to need it.

And so, they took turns giving their smaller companion a ride. He road with Panchito first, which only seemed fair since it was the rooster's idea in the first place. He hadn't it fairly well, ignoring Chitter's constant movement at his back and only flinching slightly whenever the Aracuan lost his balance and lurched forward to grab at the rooster's sides. It happened again and again, and after the sixteenth time Panchito managed to ignore it completely.

Eventually Jose took up the task, being far more patient. Though, even he couldn't take the constant snatching and replacing of his hat after a half hour. Chitter seemed to be fascinated by the straw piece, and Jose soon gave up and let him hold it without complaint. He didn't have the energy to.

Both agents held out as long as they could, preferring their own irritation, knowing what would happen come Donald's turn. But the American was intent on doing his part, and so, after the other two had exhausted every other possibility, Chitter was transferred over the Donald's horse. It was an instant mistake. Donald was almost instantly agitated. And that agitation continued to grow until the presence of his mood dragged down on them all like a dark cloud. All, that is, except Chitter.

"Can't you sit still?!" Donald finally snapped, head twisting back to fix the other with a withering glare. But Chitter merely grinned wider, bouncing in time with the horses gait. Donald huffed in frustration, turning back to the others ahead of him. "Are we there yet?" he demanded, and not for the first time either.

Jose glanced back at him, looking almost half asleep. "Quase*. It should be over the next ridge."

"Good," the duck muttered, grinding his teeth.

'Over the next ridge' might as well have been on the other side of the planet. Chitter only started to still and calm down as they neared an outcrop of distinct looking brush. That's when he fell almost frighteningly quiet. It was so abrupt and unexpected that Donald turned to check and make sure his passenger was all right. What he found was a small bird, shivering slightly with large eyes as wide as they could get. Chitter looked visibly frightened. At the sight, all of Donald's anger dissipated.

"I think we're close to something," he called up to the others softly. Jose and Panchito turned, also noticing Chitter's strange transformation. "He's afraid of something."

"Then maybe we should be as well, amigos," Jose warned. He pulled on the reigns of his horse, slowing until his beast was walking abreast of Donald's own. Panchito did the same on the other side; though just slightly ahead, sitting up straight in his saddle in an effort to keep a look out.

The sun was beginning to climb closer to the horizon, and they only had perhaps a total of three or four hours until dark. The relentless heat had grown a little less once noon had come and gone, and most of the warm air now came from below them, drifting up from the sun-baked sand. But a pleasant wind, cooler than most in this region, was blowing in gently from the west, giving the traveling group some respite from the stale air.

Finally, they reached the ridge. And it was more than they had braced themselves for.

Below, stretched out like a long forgotten cemetery, was a decimated village. The structures - homes, if the designs were anything to go by - were charred and little more than ruins. Wind blew the dust around them in miniature cyclones that faded and spread the dirt over everything, coating all in a thin layer of pale tan. Some of the village homes still smoked slightly, little wisps curling gently into the sky. Chairs, clothing, and a few other articles that the three couldn't determine were spread all over, as though a stampede had come through and trampled everything in its path. All in all, it was a bitter, sad, and frightening sight. Why hadn't they been briefed on the severity of the village's condition? Colonel Hawkins had only mentioned the disappearance of the inhabitants. In fact, that was all the letter had conveyed as well. Who had that letter even come from, that they wouldn't give a full report on the damage as well as the situation? It didn't set well with Panchito, and he instantly became more guarded.

If, at that moment, Chitter had not dropped down from Donald's horse and run toward the ruins.

"Chitter! Chitter, wait!"

The village resided in a shallow canyon, with a clear path down through the rockier parts, but it was still rather perilous going. The three agents dismounted, going after the Aracuan as quickly as they could while leaving their horses by the reigns. Panchito had drawn one of his pistols, not trusting the deathly quiet and abandoned facade of the village they were steadily drawing nearer to. Once they reached level ground once more, Donald, Jose, and Panchito quickly tied their horses to a post just outside the village, before running forward.

"Chitter! ¿Dónde fuiste?!*"

The little Aracuan had disappeared from their sight, and Panchito had a nasty, knotted feeling curling in his stomach. He turned down what might have once been a side street, Jose and Donald right behind him, before stopping, his mind giving a mental sigh of relief.

Chitter was there, standing in the middle of the dusty road, utterly still and staring up at what had probably once been the village church. It was little more than cinders now, what was left of the bell tower a twisting dark frame of charred wood. A bell, marred and scratched by its fall, sat in the ashes, reflecting the decimated village back at them, with their distorted shadows standing within it.

Chitter's small body was tense, and as Panchito and the others slowly made their way next to him, it was easy to hear that he was muttering lowly in his native tongue. The words, meaningless to them as they were, were filled with hurt and distress. The little fellow was upset beyond words, not even acknowledging the Caballeros' presence. He merely continued to stare up at the church, his high voice strained as he softly chattered in a pained expression of fear.

Jose, standing to the Aracuan's right, glanced over Chitter's head to meet Panchito and Donald's worried gaze. "I wish I could tell what he is saying," he reported softly. "But I cannot."

Panchito nodded, gazing back up at the building in front of them. "He must have spent a lot of time here," he guessed. "He came straight here."

"Maybe he worked here?" Donald suggested.

The rooster nodded. "Or lived here. Maybe both. It is not uncommon in a church, Donald. Sometimes orphans, when they grow too old to be called a child, are hired to earn their keep by performing certain tasks within the church. Like bell-ringer, for instance."

Donald sagged slightly. "So, you mean, this could have been his home?"

Panchito nodded. He stepped forward, coming to kneel slightly in front of Chitter. The Aracuan didn't seem to even notice he was there until Panchito reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. Chitter flinched, blinking rapidly before steadying his gaze on the agent before him. He muttered something that sounded very weak and uncertain, and even though Panchito didn't understand, it broke his heart.

"Chitter," he began, slow and gentle. "What happened here?"

The Aracuan blinked, eyes moist but no tears falling. He seemed to understand Panchito's meaning, even if he didn't comprehend the words. Crouching down, Chitter took his finger and began to trace it slowly through the sand. The motion seemed confident and intended, and Jose quickly crouched down at Panchito's side.

"He is trying to tell us something," the Brazilian observed, taking in the series of odd symbols being laid out at their feet. He couldn't tell whether they were letters, or pictures; Chitter's penmanship left a lot to be desired. Or his artistry, depending on what he was trying to convey. And when he finished, blinking up at them with an almost pleading look, it nearly hurt Jose to admit that he didn't have the slightest idea what the Aracuan meant. None of them did.

Giving a huff of frustration, Chitter reached out and pulled Jose to his feet by his yellow jacket sleeve. The smaller bird dragged him several paces to the east, chattering desperately and alternating between pointing urgently to the east, making symbols in the sand, and gesturing to Panchito's gun. This had to be repeated several times before it finally dawned on the Brazilian.

"The villagers! They were taken, that way. By men, with guns."

Donald frowned, stepping forward to scrutinize the distant horizon himself. "But why?"

Panchito holstered his pistol, laying a careful hand on Chitter's shoulder. "I do not know. But we are going to find out. Venga*!"

The rooster rushed back toward the horses, this time taking up Chitter and sitting him behind him on his steed. The little bird was now as calm and still as anything, reacting only to wrapping his arms tightly around Panchito's waist to help keep his balance. Jose and Donald mounted and they were off.

This time following the direction of Chitter's pointing finger.

* * *

 ***** Lo entiendes? = Spanish for "Do you understand?"

* Quase = Portuguese for "Almost."

*¿Dónde fuiste? = Spanish for "Where did you go?"

*Venga! = Spanish for "Come on!"


End file.
